Enoshi'ut
by girleffect
Summary: She's not ready to give what they're asking for. Slight casefile. Set between Hiatus and Shalom. T/Z.
1. Chapter 1

**Big thanks to the Mecha—you know what you did. Love to all- review?**

_Chapter One: Losing my Religion_

"_That's me in the corner. _

_That's me in the spotlight, losing my religion. _

_Trying to keep up with you, and I don't know if I can do it. _

_Oh no, I've said too much, _

_I haven't said enough."_

_R.E.M, Losing my Religion_

Abby had her Ziva radar on even before the team came down to present her with evidence. Navy Officer Daniel Grossman had been beaten to death and left, naked and bleeding, in front of a Synagogue in Bethesda. Someone had carved something similar to the Star of David Jews had been forced to wear during World War II on his broad chest.

Ziva didn't react to much—hell, Abby had seen her stomach crime scenes far more gruesome than this one without so much as a bat of her long, dark lashes, but this was different. Or at least she hoped it might be. The no-emotion-super-stealth-ninja act was starting to grate on her nerves. If this didn't rattle the cage of Ziva David, Abby was sure she would have to be labeled a cold-blooded robot. And if that happened, her civility was probably going to reach the end of its short life.

She sighed and looked at the date on her digital calendar. Gibbs had been gone for 2 weeks, four days, 11 hours and 21 minutes. The elevator dinged, signaling the team's arrival, and she turned around as Tony and McGee hauled in heavy boxes of evidence.

"Got you a present, Abbs," Tony declared, shaking out his stiff hands.

"And more on the way," McGee added, and, as if conjured magically, Ziva appeared in the doorway lugging a box that had to be twice as heavy as she was. Ziva deposited her load on the stainless steel table with no fanfare and stepped back, smoothing her hands on her cargo pants. Abby frowned and studied her- Ziva's expression eerily vacant. There was a bit of an awkward, loaded silence before Tony clapped his hands.

"We need this stuff processed right away, Abbs."  
"I'll go as fast as I can, but there's only one me and a whole lotta stuff to sort through, and I know you want it done right, so-"

Tony cut her off by stuffing a Caf-Pow! into her hand. "Call me when you got something," he barked, but not unkindly, and took off towards the elevator.

McGee followed behind him, but Ziva was glued to the spot, her gaze pinned on Officer Grossman's service ID photo that Abby had pulled up through AFIS.

"You ok?" She ventured.

Ziva snapped out of it, her eyes wild for a brief moment before she composed herself. "I am fine." She replied, tone over formal, and walked briskly out of the lab.

…..

Eight o'clock came and went without a break in the case. Ziva took a swig from her cup of coffee and winced—It was cold. How many hours had it been since she'd gone to the cart outside to get it? She tossed it in the trashcan, relishing in the dull thud it made.

Abby hadn't finished processing all the evidence, and without it they had hit a dead end. Tony and McGee began to pack up their things, but she remained at her desk-merely nodded at him when he bid her farewell.

Tony leaned his hip against the desk and crossed his arms. "Want to come over tonight? I got a case of beer, and we can order food—whatever you want."

"No thank you."  
He leaned closer to her and lowered his voice. "C'mon, Zi, you look like hell."

"I am not in the mood for company tonight. Perhaps another time." She did not even take her eyes away from the computer screen, where she was trying to focus on bank statements. The numbers were beginning to run together as her focus wavered and her temper flared. She hated when he didn't listen to her. She wanted to stomp her feet.

"I know when you say that you don't mean it. There's nothing more we can do tonight, so let's call it a day and head out. We can go to your place if you want." She continued to ignore him, hoping he would take the hint. He did not, and reached over and hit the power button on her computer. The screen went black.

"It's time to-"

"You _idiot!_" Ziva seethed. Her face and neck began to burn hot with rage. She bolted out of her chair and pushed him away, hard, with both hands to his chest.

"Can you not see that I was in the middle of reviewing information that could be crucial to our investigation?"

Tony moved back with his hands in front of him. He opened his mouth to speak, but she threw her stapler at him. It bounced off his gut and he gaped at her, shocked-maybe even _pissed_. She felt a small pang of guilt, but pushed it away. The few agents that were left in the bullpen peered over the cubicle walls. She took a deep breath in order to maintain what little composure she had left. Gossip traveled fast around the Navy Yard. When she spoke next she could hear how low and dangerous her voice was.  
"You have once again let the fact that we are sleeping together color how you treat and view me as a colleague. You crossed a line, Tony."  
"Zi, I-" he stammered, face flushed and remorseful.  
"Please go. I will see you tomorrow."

Tony hemmed for a moment, seeming to want to say something, but changed his mind and stormed off. She could swear she saw him wipe at his cheeks.

Ziva took a breath and booted her computer back up. She groaned in frustration when her screen showed an error message. A lump formed in her throat. _Pull yourself together! _ Ziva scolded, and stalked toward the break room, away from prying eyes. She reached into her pocket for quarters with shaking hands and pressed for a cup of coffee. She was so worked up that when she picked it up she spilled hot liquid all over her hands and jeans.

"Shit! Shit shit shit!" She hissed, and began to kick the vending machine with a ferocity she thought she'd been too weary to deliver. Ziva kicked and grunted until a small voice coughed behind her. She wheeled around, and was shocked to see Abby standing almost shyly in the doorway, empty Caf-Pow! dangling from her manicured hand.

"Abby." She greeted dumbly, and felt herself redden from her face to her newly scuffed combat boots.  
"You okay, Ziva?" Abby asked, moving carefully towards her, as if approaching a feral animal.

Ziva had to take a deep, steadying breath. "I am _fine_, Abby."

Abby cocked her head. "You sure?"

"I appreciate your concern, but like I said, I am _fine". _Something unwelcome and foreign tightened in her chest. She stared at the mess in front of her until Abby produced napkins from her enormous purse. Ziva merely nodded her thanks and mopped up the spilled coffee- she was suddenly deflated, exhausted even. She was a little girl again, cleaning up after her father's violent temper sent her mother to the hospital. Ziva blinked hard and stood up, back aching.

"See you tomorrow, Ziva," Abby called after her as she slunk out of the break room. Ziva did not return the gesture.


	2. Chapter 2

**I am so, so sorry for the wait. This took me a long time because I wanted to get it just right. **

**Thanks: Mecha, because nothing would ever make its way onto the page without you. **

**Xoxoxoxo to all- review?**

Chapter 2: Tear in Your Hand

"_Maybe they're just pieces of me you've never seen". _

_Tori Amos, Tear in Your Hand_

"Daniel is-_was_- such a good boy", Lisa Grossman insisted, wringing her hands. Her nails were long and bright red. Ziva thought of her own mother and her red manicures.

"I told him something like this would happen. I warned him. Daniel was so smart- he could have been a doctor, or a lawyer, or an investment banker like his Uncle Sam. Right, Marty? Tell them how smart Daniel was!" She nudged her husband, who sat shell-shocked and stony faced next to her.  
"Daniel wanted to serve his country,' he countered. His voice was hollow.

"And look what happened!"

Ziva leaned forward. "We just need to ask you some questions that could help us find out what happened to your son".

Lisa looked hard at her for a minute. Ziva watched her focus on her badge and gun.

"You're careful, right, Agent David?" She finally asked. Ziva frowned but nodded. _Rivka._

"Yes. Now, when was the last time-"

"You're such a pretty girl to be doing this job. So dangerous-does your mother worry?"

Tony stared open-mouthed at Mrs. Grossman. Ziva shifted uncomfortably. _Rivka _again. Her mother had worried about her until the day she died. She couldn't speak for a minute, but Tony took over.

"When was the last time you saw your son?" Lisa scowled but refocused.

"Last week. His younger sister, Rachel, was home from college for the weekend. Two peas in a pod, those two. Rachel's going to be _devastated_-" She stopped and gulped back tears. She got distracted again.

"Have you ever thought about getting a safer job, Agent David? Nine to five, in an office. You seem very organized- you would be a fabulous receptionist. Flexible hours for when the kids are born- that's very important."

Ziva sat stunned, open mouthed. On the one hand, she felt fairly disgusted- so many assumptions and gender stereotypes that went against the way her father had raised her- _his good little soldier. _But it also felt oddly nice to imagine what it would be like if her mother had gotten her way. Would she put on a pencil skirt and heels every morning before her safe, boring job? Would she wear lipstick and pack a lunch? It made her chest tighten to think about this and she had to stop herself.

"My friend Eileen mentioned her husband is looking for a new assistant- he's a litigator. Do you want me to put you in touch?"

Ziva shook her head, still shocked. She felt herself loosing her emotional footing, and schooled her features. _Cool, calm, collected. Together. _

Tony stood up. "That's all for now. I'll call if we have any further questions- here's my card."

Ziva stood as well. "I am sorry for your loss." She murmured. The Grossman's nodded tearfully.

Tony unlocked the charger with a beep and slammed the door. He was surprised when Ziva did not ask for- no, _demand_- the keys from him so she could drive. She got delicately in the passenger seat and pulled her wild curls back into a tight ponytail.

"The hell was that?" He spat. She looked at him blankly, and he began to ramble. "She crossed a line, Ziva. Asking you all those questions? The woman has no sense of boundaries. I'm surprised you didn't drop kick her-"

"Enough, Tony."

"But-"

Her piercing eyes turned sad, but her voice was venomous. "I said enough."

His chest felt tender. He put the car in reverse and headed back towards the Navy Yard.

...

"I don't get it," Tony lamented. "This woman is asking her all sorts of questions like 'are you married?' 'Why not?' 'Don't you want kids' and 'have you ever thought about getting a safer job?' And she just sits there and takes it like it's not rude or bothering her, and then snaps at _me _when I try and talk to her about how ridiculous it was." He got angrier. Bits of cheese steak clung to his lips and chin.

Abby put a hand on his arm. He'd been working out, she could tell. She was quiet for a minute, and he sobered almost immediately. "I don't think this is the time to push her, Tony. This case- it has huge implications for her- as a Jew, an Israeli, as an agent of Mossad, which was formed to find and bring Nazi war criminals to justice."

"I know that, but that woman was pushing, not-"

Abby shook her head.

"That kind of thing is likely part of the culture she grew up in, Tony. It was for me- women, especially other mothers, spout their advice and opinions about how you should live your life to anyone who will listen. It's rude to shut them down- I know that I was taught to just smile and take it. And for you to question what this woman was doing was not just commiserating with her- it was undermining her cultural norms and the world she grew up in."

"I didn't mean to." Tony said lowly. He looked at the labs sparkling clean floors.

Abby patted him on the back. "I know you didn't. Maybe you should tell her that you understand now, and that you're sorry."

"I shut her down last night," he revealed. He was still looking at the floor. "I knew she was affected by the case, at least a little. I wanted to get through to her, and I ended up pushing her away."

Abby thought about Ziva's outburst last night, but kept it to herself.

"You didn't mean to. Just _talk _to her, and _listen_. Don't make assumptions about what she's feeling."

Tony nodded miserably and checked his watch. "Lunch breaks over. Thanks, Abbs." He kissed her cheek. She waved him cheerfully out of the lab.

…..

Abby was more curious than in need of help, but asking Ziva down to the lab to help her carefully sort through the files the FBI had sent over on similar hate crimes committed in the past five years seemed harmless, and a good use of Ziva's expertise on the subject to boot. Ziva sat pored over file after file, police report after police report, pen in hand. Her tongue stuck out in concentration as she underlined and crosschecked evidence. She was meticulous- checked her notes three, four times before moving on to the next case.

"Want to take a break? Grab some coffee from the cart outside?" Abby ventured. It had been a solid hour and a half of heavy, focused quiet. Her vision was starting to swim and she needed more Caf Pow!. She wished she could install a machine down in the lab- it would make everything so much easier.

Ziva looked up, startled. To her surprise, she nodded.

"A break would be nice," she said, and pushed back her stool.

Abby felt oddly triumphant. "Great! Let me just grab my purse."

They walked into the elevator and out the front entrance to the coffee cart in silence. It was a beautiful summer day- one Abby lamented having to spend inside. Ziva ordered an espresso, and they paid for their drinks.

"Let's sit outside. It's so nice out". Abby decided, grabbing Ziva's arm and dragging her to a nearby bench. Ziva looked shocked, but followed. The bench was warm with the afternoon sun.

"I used to love days like these when I was a kid. I'd wake up early and play with the neighborhood kids until it got dark and my mom called us in for dinner. Well, not really called- she rang a bell from our porch. Both my parents were deaf- did you know that? So she couldn't speak that well, and didn't like everyone in the neighborhood to hear her try. Today with all new technologies and more awareness it's different. We did exclusively ASL in our house- even between my brother Luca and I, except when it was late at night and we talked to each other because it was too dark to sign. Our parents couldn't hear us, but they'd know if we turned on the lamp."

It took Ziva a long time to digest that. She felt jealousy bubble up under the surface but pushed it away.

"You said your parents 'were' deaf. Are they-"

Abby shook her head sadly. "No. My mom died when I was twenty-five- breast cancer. My dad passed a month later. He wasn't sick, just went to sleep one night and never woke up. They were soul mates- he couldn't go on without her, I guess."

Ziva nodded slowly. Eli hadn't even stopped to mourn her mother. Had she? "And your brother?"

Abby smiled then. "Oh, Luca? He's great. He still lives down in New Orleans. He's a contractor, and his wife Harriet is a second grade teacher. I have a niece, Riley, whose five. She looks just like my mom- want to see?"

Ziva squinted in the bright light to see the picture Abby pulled out of her wallet. A little girl with blonde curls and a wide, toothy grin smiled up at the camera. She wore a sweet pink swimsuit and held a small American flag. Watermelon juice ran down her chubby cheeks.

"That was from Fourth of July last summer. I went down to visit them."

Something unfamiliar thrummed beneath Ziva's chest. She opened her mouth to speak before she could stop herself.

"My mother passed away when I was twelve," she revealed. She knew her voice sounded odd and robotic. "She was in the market and a riot broke out. She was shot to death."

Abby put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

Ziva kept talking. She wished she could shut up, but she couldn't make her mouth stop moving.

"My sister died two years ago. She was sixteen and killed in a Hamas suicide bombing."

Abby looked at her with big, compassionate eyes. It made it more difficult to stop herself. Her father would disapprove- called her weak, a disgrace, but her mother beautiful face lingered when she closed her eyes. She squeezed her cup the way grief was twisting her heart. Why couldn't she make it stop?

"Are you okay, Ziva?" Abby asked. It sounded as though she were calling to her from far away.

She opened her mouth to speak, to say _'I'm fine'_, but she was suddenly winded. They were _gone_. Her _Ima_ and Tali and even Ari, although she couldn't mention him out loud. Not here- not yet. She couldn't breathe, suddenly- the air was heavy heavy and her vision was graying. She was _alone_ because they were _gone_- had she not realized it before? A wave of nausea so strong hit her and she doubled over but someone's hand was rubbing her back and calling her name in the din.

Ziva blinked and sat up. She was shaking. Abby made a sad face and pulled her in for a strong hug. She resisted at first, but it was _nice_ and so she relented.

"You're ok," Abby whispered as she brought Ziva's head down to her shoulder. Why was she crying? "You're ok."


	3. Awake My Soul

**I am so sorry, again, for the wait. Watch out for language and violence below. Thank you all for being the best. Thank you Mechabeira, xo. **

**Review? **

Chapter 3: Awake My Soul

"_And now my heart stumbles on things I don't know;_

_My weakness I feel I must finally show."_

_Mumford and Sons, Awake My Soul_

It was hard to stop the tears now that she had started. It was as if she was feeling everything, _really_ feeling it, for the first time. It was everything all at once- her loneliness, her anger, her confusion, her guilt. Was this what grief felt like? Was that her mother with her hands on her knees, calling her name in the din? "_Take a breath, Zi," _she heard. That was not Rivka. Her mother would have said "_Sha, Zivaleh"_, and pushed back her unruly curls. Her hair had always been unmanageable. _She_ had always been unmanageable. Tali was different, with her smooth curls and bright eyes. A big smile and a bigger heart. Thinking about them stole her breath and twisted her heart. She was tearing in two. There was that voice again- Tony? He was holding her hands in his much bigger ones. The world was coming back to her in pieces. Abby rubbing her shoulder, waving off concerned passerby's. _"We're fine,"_ she called. Something in the _we_ helped Ziva open her eyes and take a wiggly, unsteady breath.

Tony gave her a charming half smile. The one she fell for. "You doin' ok, Sweet Cheeks?"

_No._ "Yes," She ventured. The lump in her throat returned, but she expertly schooled her featured and swallowed around it. Her heart was raw and sore.

Abby handed her a paper cup of water and she drank. Her heart pounded and her chest tightened but she kept her face impassive.

"Want to go for a walk?" Tony offered. His voice was low and even. She scolded herself for being so weak, so transparent.

_No. _"Yes," She agreed, and let him lead her down the path. He reached for her hand and then hesitated, but she took it. It was warm and calloused in her own. An anchor.

"What happened back there?" he asked.

_Everything_. "Nothing."

Tony stopped then and looked her in the eye. "It didn't look like nothing, Zee-Vah," he pushed. She didn't say anything for a long time. Ziva could feel herself shutting down, compartmentalizing, stamping down her sorrow. Maybe it was better this way.

"My mother and sister are gone," Ziva finally allowed, "and I…" She stammered, unsure. What _was_ she? She felt empty, hollow, like a spent bullet casing. Her father's voice echoed in her empty head. "_Enough, Ziva," _he spat. Ziva was not afraid of bombs or heights or fire or death, but Eli, with his orders and his temper?

Tony was looking at her intently, concerned.

"You what?" He urged. Could she say it? _I am the only one left, and that lonliness, that guilt, it is all consuming. _Her eyes burned.

"I am fine," she finally said. If she said it enough times, would it come true?

Tony looked skeptical, but then McGee came running towards them, red faced and panting.

"We've got a problem—"

"Can't you see we're in the middle of something, Agent McGee?" Tony spat. McGee seemed to shrink—she had never once heard Tony address him by his official title.

"I, uh, yeah, and I'm sorry, but this is urgent," he stammered, adjusting his tie with nervous fingers. "I just finished reviewing Officer Grossman's credit card statements—on the night he died, he went to a bar outside of Lynchburg. I looked into their list of employees—the bartender, Jason Erwin, has been arrested three times, twice for aggravated assault, and once for a domestic dispute, when he put his then girlfriend in the hospital. He's also a known skinhead."

Ziva felt everything around her go still. Her anger came with a strange sense of calm. "What are we waiting for?" She snapped when she saw that Tony and McGee were just _staring_ at her, "Let's go pick him up."

….

Erwin wasn't at the bar, but the manager reluctantly gave them his address in a nearby trailer park. The trailer decrepit and smelled of cigarettes and booze.

Tony knocked on the screen door, and a small, beady-eyed woman emerged from within. She looked tired and used up, and Ziva could see the shadows of bruises on her cheeks.

"NCIS. We're looking for Jason Erwin."

She frowned and looked over her shoulder before answering. "He aint here right now," she drawled, all uneasy and meth mouthed.

"When will he be back?" Tony asked, not buying her act for a second. Ziva had to look away. Something around the other side of the trailer caught her eye, and she was flying off the porch.

"NCIS!" Ziva screamed, chasing after Erwin, "On the ground!"

He ignored her. Erwin was fast, but so was she. Her lungs burned, but she pushed on and tackled him to the ground. He was a massive man, all muscle, and he easily flipped her over. He eyed her Star of David, and his eyes flashed.

"Fucking kike," he spat, and pulled off her necklace before tossing it over his shoulder, into the tall, untamed grass. She felt naked without it. He was covered in swastika tattoos, and his breath stank of beer and tooth decay. Ziva looked at his forearm, where _'Heil Hitler'_ was inscribed. She thought of her own grandmother's number —6481—and her stomach turned.

Ziva gathered all her strength and flipped him back over. He looked momentarily stunned, and she punched him. Then she punched him again, and again, and again. She would have kept punching, but then Tony was shouting and someone was pulling her off of him. Her knuckles were bruised and bloody.

"Crazy Jew bitch!" He slurred as Tony cuffed him. His face was a mess of blood and mucus.

McGee put a hand on her shoulder, and she shrugged it away. Was she trembling?

"Let's go, Ziva," he coaxed. They were halfway down the freeway before she realized she'd forgotten to look for her Star of David necklace.

…

Director Sheppard pulled her off the case and suspended her for a week without pay, for using what she called '_excessive force'._ Ziva thought she hadn't used _enough_ force. Erwin had a broken nose and a dislocated jaw, but he'd confessed when he came out of surgery. He was proud, boastful, even.

She'd avoided going down to Ducky to get her hand checked out, and driven home in a daze. Erwin's hateful words echoed in her head; _kike, Jew bitch._ On the drive back to the Navy Yard he'd threatened to burn her alive, so she would be incinerated like her ancestors. Tony had braked the car hard and turned around to wave his service weapon in his face.

"Another word out of you and I blow your fucking head off, you understand me?" He'd threatened. Ziva had just sat stock still, eyes facing front.

She let herself into her apartment and sank to the floor on trembling legs. She closed her eyes but his face flashed before her eyes and she stood, suddenly nauseated and dizzy. The skin where her Star of David pendant usually fell burned like the yellow stars her grandparents had sewn onto their jackets must have burned.

It was suddenly all too much again—she was overcome by a wave of severe anxiety and nausea, and she ran to the bathroom, where she vomited all over her tile floor. A mess. _Clean it up! _Her fathers voice called, but she couldn't move. Ziva closed her eyes leaned against the cool tub—she felt suddenly overheated. Rivka and Erwin and Tali and Ari's faces all loomed, and she heaved bile again. Her hand throbbed. Her _heart_ throbbed. She wanted her mother, and suddenly she panicked, remembering that she did not remember what her voice sounded like. It had been eleven years since her mothers passing, she realized. When was the last time she had lit a _Yahrtzeit_ candle in her honor, or Tali's? Had she ever?

"_Yit'gadal v'yit'kadash sh'mei raba, " _she murmered. She supposed this meant she is in mourning.

_B'alma di v'ra chirutei,_

_v'yamlich malchutei,_

_b'chayeichon uv'yomeichon_

_uv'chayei d'chol beit Yisrael,_

_baagala uviz'man kariv. V'im'ru: Amen…"_


	4. To Build A Home

**I am so sorry for the delay. Thank you to all those who came on this ride with me—love and gratitude to all. Please leave a review. Thank you, thank you, thank you, Mecha. **

**Xoxo to all. Please enjoy.**

Chapter 4: To Build a Home

_"Out in the garden where we planted the seeds,_

_There is a tree as old as me._

_Branches were sewn by the color of green,_

_Ground had arose and passed its knees._

_By the cracks of the skin I climbed to the top_

_I climbed the tree to see the world._

_When the gusts came around to blow me down,_

_Held on as tightly as you held onto me,_

_Held on as tightly as you held onto me." _

_Cinematic Orchestra, To Build a Home_

_Eilat was beautiful- the clear blue water sparkled and winked at Ziva as ema set down a towel. Tali tugged on her hand- Ziva Ziva Ziva- and Rivka nodded as she lit a cigarette. "Take your sister to play in the water, please." It was not a request. Ziva didn't want to play baby games at the shore with Tali- other children were running and playing and splashing, but she knew better than to complain. _

_"Let's go," Ziva said, pulling Tali along. Her sister wore a sweet pink bathing suit with white daisies sprinkled all over. Ziva wore a plain blue one piece that was a hand-me-down from Shira who lived across the hall. It was soft and nubby._

_"Look at me, Ziva!" Tali called happily, splashing in as the water lapped at her feet. _

_It was suddenly pitch black. Ziva grew cold- panic rose up up up the back of her throat. There were gunshots. Someone screamed. Where was ema? Tali? Then it was light again, and Ziva looked all around. She paralyzed with fear. Ema was bleeding and limp. Was she dead?_

_She tried to call for help, but no noise came out. Tali's bloated body popped up out of the water. Her eyes were open and glassy. Ari was there, then- she could see the bullet hole from when she shot and killed him- her own sweet, protective older brother. His tone was bitter. _

_"Your fault," he spat, "your fault." _

_It was red all around, and Ziva struggled to breathe, to move. It was her fault, it was her fault, it was her fault..._

...

Ziva startled herself awake. Tony's concerned, handsome face wavered above hers.

"How did you get in?" She managed. Her mouth tasted sour.

"Used the spare key you gave me," he replied. His voice was low and soothing. She wanted to lay her head down on his broad chest and sleep forever.

"Oh," she managed.

He reached out tentatively to run a finger down her cheek. That was nice.

"Can't be too comfortable down there on the floor. Want to get up?"

Ziva nodded, grateful when Tony took her hand and pulled her up.

"Want to change and get into bed while I clean this up?" He suggested gently.

Ziva nodded dumbly, and reached for her toothbrush. She brushed and rinsed longer than necessary before wandering back to her bedroom and pulling on pajamas and climbing beneath her soft duvet. Its warm weight was a cocoon, a balm on her sore, broken heart. The world faded in and out- Tony starting the washing machine, Tony running water, Tony jostling her shoulder and saying, "Take these, ninja. Your hand is really swollen".

Ziva took the proffered meds and settled back down. She was here and she was not. Who was humming?

Tony hunkered down next to her and sighed deeply, pulling her close. That was good. She was floating, floating. Somewhere, somehow, Ema kissed her forehead and whispered, "_Laila Tov_".

...

Tony blinked blearily in the early morning light. Ziva stared at him intensely, eyes black and burning, beneath a mountain of covers. Could someone be lethal and vulnerable at the same time?

"Hey," he ventured.

Ziva blinked a few times. "I am… sorry." She looked ashamed, and he could practically _feel_ self-loathing coming off her in waves.

"Why are you sorry?"

Her nostrils flared. _Tread lightly. _"You know why," she breathed.

He sighed. "If you're sorry for hitting me with the stapler, thank you. But you have nothing else to be sorry for."

Ziva frowned. "I have acted… selfishly and immaturely these past few days. The way you found me last night—it is unacceptable behavior."

Tony shrugged. "You're grieving," he stated matter-of-factly.

"They have been gone a long time," Ziva wheedled.

"So? Does that mean you can't mourn that loss?"

Ziva was quiet for a long time. "I do not think I _realized_ they were gone until a few days ago," she admitted. "I do not remember being sad when either of them passed—just angry."

"Everyone deals with death differently," Tony offered. Ziva scoffed and rolled over so her back was to him. He could see the knobs of her spine through her thin t-shirt. He was loosing her.

"I didn't go to my mom's funeral," he admitted. Tony could see her ears perk up. "I hid in her closet—it still smelled like her—Chanel number 5 and all. I could hear my dad and my uncles and my Nonna calling my name, but I just kept hiding. They gave up eventually, I guess." He had to pause and compose himself. Ziva turned over and looked at him with big, compassionate eyes. She put a hand on his arm. It was enough for him to keep going.

"It's something I'll regret until the day I die—not getting a formal chance to honor her or say a proper goodbye. But," he added, "I know now that I'm not a bad son. It took a while, and a lot of head shrinking, but I know it."

It was quiet. Ziva studied her nails, her duvet, her sheets. She needed to do laundry. Tali had liked to press her nose into clothes fresh from the dryer and breathe in deeply.

"When my mother died, I made a promise to myself that I would take care of Tali the way she would have. I _tried_ Tony, I did. I got her ready for school, I helped with her homework, I braided her hair, I comforted her, cared for her when she was sick. I _protected_ her. I bore the brunt of our father's anger so she would not have to."

Tony felt as though he was being given a very precious, fragile gift. Her truth, spun delicately from glass.

"She asked me to go to lunch at the café the day she died, but I was late. I—I was with my boyfriend, and lost track of time. It was selfish and irresponsible of me. If I had gone," Ziva began to choke up. "If I had _gone_, maybe I would have spotted something. I could have stopped it. She would not have died alone, _waiting_ and _waiting_ for me. It's my fault—"

Tony stopped her with a gentle, yet firm jostle of her shoulders. She sobered immediately. Was that fear in her gaze? "It is not your fault, Ziva. _You_ did not send a suicide bomber to a café full of civilians. _You _didn't detonate the bomb. You did the best you could for her your whole life—hell, you practically raised her. Let go of this guilt, Ziva, or it's going to eat you alive."

Was it that easy? Tali giggled and blew out the candles on her sixteenth birthday cake. _Make a wish_. Rivka smiled sadly—"_It is time to let us go, motek," _

It wouldn't happen right away—It couldn't. But it _could_, someday.


End file.
